


New Memories in the Making

by sahiya



Series: The Bells That Still Can Ring [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Bathtub Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal and Peter thoroughly enjoy the trip to Edinburgh that Sara sends them on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Memories in the Making

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, Elrhiarhodan! 2013 was the year I learned how to reliably spell your LJ/DW handle. :-D
> 
> In my head, this takes place in the same 'verse as [The Bells That Still Can Ring](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1082684), but it works pretty well if you just assume an OT4 background. It also takes place simultaneously with [The Moon and the Stars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1084377).

“Did you get the impression that Sara wanted us gone?” Peter asked as he and Neal settled themselves in their seats on the train to Edinburgh. Neal had pushed Peter into the window seat; he’d taken this trip before, after all, and Peter hadn’t. 

“I think I still have the imprint of her foot in my ass,” Neal said with a smile. “She told me before we came that she wanted some time with El, though.”

“Hmm,” Peter said, and shifted a little in the seat beside Neal. “That’s . . . food for thought.”

“That it is,” Neal said, trying not to think about it too hard, lest the trip northward become rather uncomfortable. “But whatever the reason, I’m glad to have the time with you,” he said, capturing Peter’s hand in his own. Here, thousands of miles from New York and their colleagues, they could have these small touches in public. Neal felt far more secure in his relationship with Peter and Elizabeth these days; somehow, bringing Sara in had only cemented things between the three of them. But he still cherished these rare opportunities. 

“You don’t see enough of me in New York?” Peter asked, smiling. 

“That’s not the point,” Neal said, nudging Peter’s shoulder with his own as the train started moving. “The point of going on vacation is to see you somewhere else, in a totally different context. Plus, I like Edinburgh.”

“Hmm,” Peter said, glancing at him sideways. “How _much_ do you like Edinburgh?”

Once, Neal thought, that would have bothered him; was Peter never going to let it all go? But the statute of limitations had expired now on everything he'd done before prison. Now, they were just stories, and Peter wanted to know them in order to know _him_. Still, Neal wasn’t sure that Peter needed to know that the last time he’d been in Edinburgh, he’d stolen an engagement ring for Kate - or, far worse than that, that Matthew Keller had been at his side when he did it. Part of the reason he’d said “Edinburgh” when Sara asked him where he’d like to go with Peter was that he wanted to make new memories of the city.

“Not _that_ much,” was all he said now, and leaned into Peter to watch the outskirts of London slide by outside. 

Sara had booked them into a very nice small hotel on her own dime. There was a bottle of champagne waiting for them in their _en suite_ in a silver ice bucket, with a card that just said, _Enjoy. -S_. Tomorrow, Neal wanted to take Peter out and show him everything that Edinburgh had to offer, and part of that would certainly be a fancy dinner somewhere. But tonight, after a six hour train journey, all Neal wanted was a soak in the very large tub he glimpsed through the bathroom door. Preferably with Peter and the champagne. 

Peter seemed to have the same idea. He popped the cork while Neal ran the bath, and came in with two champagne flutes and the ice bucket just as Neal was stripping down. Peter paused, watching him with apparent appreciation, but even with steam already filling the room it was too cold to be naked for very long outside the hot water. It was April; in London it had felt like springtime, but this far north, winter had yet to relinquish its hold. 

Once upon a time, a room like this would have been mundane in the life of Neal Caffrey. Truth be told, he’d stayed in places that were far more luxurious. But he’d been living within his legal means ever since the anklet had finally come off and he’d started a new life with Peter and Elizabeth. And with his newfound frugality - which was not _really_ frugality by most people’s standards, Peter often pointed out to him - had come a new appreciation for the finer things when he did have them. Neal sighed as he sank into the water up to his chin. 

Peter handed him his champagne flute and climbed in after him. Neal sipped the champagne and hummed in approval. Then Peter slid closer and kissed him; Neal tasted the champagne on Peter’s lips and hummed again. Neal carefully set his champagne flute on the side of the tub and moved to straddle Peter’s hips. Peter hitched him closer and they both groaned, muffled against each other’s mouths, as their cocks came into contact. 

“Been a while since I had sex in a bathtub,” Neal said, breaking the kiss to nuzzle Peter’s neck the way he liked and scrape his teeth along the shell of Peter’s ear. Even in the warmth of the water, Peter had to suppress a shiver. 

“I think I’d prefer we save anything athletic for the bed,” Peter said, his voice already a little low and rough in a way that did things to Neal’s insides. “Mostly so I don’t throw my back out and neither of us cracks his head open on the side of the tub.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “You’re such a romantic.”

Peter gave him a pointed look. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Neal kissed him instead - kissed him and moved his hips against Peter’s, letting his thighs fall further apart to bring them closer together. He reached down and found Peter’s cock, already mostly erect and ran his finger up the sensitive vein on its underside. Peter shuddered and reached for Neal’s cock in turn. He swirled his thumb around the tip, and Neal moaned. His skin felt extra sensitive from the heat, as though all his nerve endings were alive and sparking at once. 

It didn't matter that they’d done this a hundred times before in Neal’s bed at June’s and in the master bedroom at Peter and El’s house; doing it here, now, thousands of miles from home, made it seem new and different and exciting. Peter took both their cocks in hand and started a maddeningly slow rhythm. Neal let his head drop to rest in the crook of Peter’s neck and touched him all over, keeping his hands below the sloshing surface of the water. He skimmed his hands down Peter’s sides, making him shiver, and brushed against his nipples with his thumb nail. Peter reached his free hand around to cup and squeeze Neal’s ass, and the promise contained in that one gesture went straight to Neal’s cock. 

“You want athletics?” Neal murmured in Peter’s ear. “I’m going to suck you off till you can’t stand it, and then, when you’re right on the verge of coming, I’m going to back off. You’re going to be so frustrated and furious, you’re going to flip me over and fuck me till I can’t walk.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Careful what you wish for,” he said, huskily. 

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m wishing for,” Neal said, and pinched Peter’s nipple between thumb and forefinger. Peter’s entire body jerked beneath him, and Neal could feel the way his cock jumped against Neal’s own. The rhythm of Peter’s hand faltered, and when it started again, it was much faster. 

“That’s it,” Neal mumbled, letting his forehead rest against Peter’s. “Yes, that’s it, yes, _Peter_.”

Peter gripped him harder and jerked them both faster, rougher than usual. Neal reached down and joined his hand with Peter’s, sliding his fingers in between Peter’s own. One last swipe of Peter’s thumb across the tip and Neal was coming. He groaned and heard his own pleasure echoed back at him in Peter’s voice. A second, unexpected wave of sensation swept through him, and Neal felt his whole body quake as he teetered on the verge of _too much_. 

It faded before he could quite tip over. Neal sank down into the water, which was now more warm than hot, and let himself rest against the strength of Peter’s body.

Never again, he thought, would he utter the phrase “just a handjob.”

“Hey,” Peter mumbled against his shoulder. He sounded just as wrecked as Neal felt. “Love you.”

Neal planted a clumsy kiss against the nearest part of Peter - his clavicle, it turned out. “Love you, too,” he said. 

***

Late the next morning, Peter and Neal stood at the parapet of Edinburgh Castle. It was a gray day, and Neal found himself hoping that the rain forecasted for the afternoon would materialize. He knew exactly what they could do to wait out the storm. 

“So,” Peter said, draping an arm across Neal’s shoulders. “Better than the last time you visited?”

Neal glanced at him sideways. Peter wasn’t looking at him at all. He was looking down at the city, spread out below them. As he watched, Peter glanced up at the gray, gray sky and the silvery sea beyond. Somewhere over the water, the clouds parted briefly, and a sunbeam shone down, making the waves sparkle.

He knew, Neal realized. Peter knew what he’d done the last time he was here. Neal didn’t know how he knew; that wasn’t a story he’d told Peter or El, and it wasn’t one he’d ever intended to tell them. But he should have known that Peter would know, somehow. 

“Yes,” Neal said, and tucked himself closer to the warmth of Peter’s body. “Much, much better.”

_Fin._


End file.
